ChickFlick King
by Shotgunsinlace
Summary: That first Christmas with a family of three.


The chiming of silverware rang distantly in his ears; slow, precise and grating as it coaxed him from his fitful sleep. Otherwise, it was momentarily silent, the barely audible hum of the heater going unnoticed as he drifted up into the waking world, limbs sore and back aching from sleeping on such an awkward position on the couch. Dean's eyes blinked once, twice, willing away the bleariness from them as the array of smells hit him next.

_Sugar,__apple,__something__roasting,__spice,__cinnamon__… _Food; and lot's of it judging by the mouthwatering scents.

There was also a heavy something resting over him, warming up his legs and stomach though his toes felt frozen through the hole of his socks. Maybe it was a blanket, or a jacket, either way he snuggled into its borrowed warmth, nearly melting into it as he stretched out on the ridiculously toasty couch.

"Am I in heaven again?" Dean asked no one in particular, groggily, but his eyes shot open again when a low chuckle surprised him.

"Not quite." Cas was standing by the fireplace across the room, adjusting the candle holders at just the correct distance from each other, holly facing upfront. He was dressed down to only his button down and dressing slacks, barefoot and as he turned Dean noticed that his tie was actually straightened out for once, neatly snug against his collar. His hair was also properly slicked to the sides. Dean decided that he didn't like it that way. Sitting up, he noticed Cas' trench coat slide off from his chest to pool at his lap where he fisted it tightly. Disorientation began to ebb its way into his head.

At the far end of the room was a Christmas tree, a huge one, decorated so thoroughly you could barely see a hint of green. Gold and white ribbons weaved their way from top to bottom, twirling in intricate designs that seemed to belong in some interior decorating catalogue. Dean's eyes fell to the floor as he placed his feet over solid ground; noticed the plush carpet as it tickled the tip of his toes for the first time. There was nothing familiar about the place, no reason for Cas to look so comfortable and nearly freaking glowing as he made his way towards him, kneeling by his side. "Then I'm dreaming." Dean muttered, perplexed by the action.

"Perhaps." Cas gave him a soft, barely there smile, quiet and intimate as he pried the torn socks off Dean's chilled feet. "Is it a pleasant one?" Big blue eyes turned to stare steadily into Dean's own expectantly, nearly hopeful. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, hold onto whatever fabric of reality the dream belonged to before he replied with a stiff nod, lips pressed in a thin line betraying his suspicion. "In case you're wondering, Sam is in the kitchen."

The smell hit him again, delicious and inviting in a way that escaped Dean's capability to describe. So he followed it; followed this insane fantasy that he would happily like to stay in. Bare feet felt the stark transition from carpet to wooden floors in an instant, too real to even register otherwise. He came across Sam who had his head stuck in the oven, but all train of thought was disrupted when his eyes fell on the beauty clasped safely between Sam's mitten clad hands. "Dude, did you just… bake a pie?"

"Uh, Cas did, actually. Who knew he could cook." Sam gave a lopsided grin as he walked over to the table, sliding the steaming hot pan onto the cooling rack gingerly. "Shouldn't you be getting changed?"

"Changed." Dean repeated, momentarily enraptured by the meal set out across the table. That turkey looked too nice to be real. Same could be said about the potatoes and that wickedly steaming gravy and the dinner buns and the pie—"Why do I need to get changed?"

He didn't need to look at Sam to know that the bitchface was on at full force. Dinner was ten times a more attractive view anyways. "Because we're not having dinner with you looking like you just spent a week squatting in some display home without any access to a shower."

"You've never complained before." Dean reached for a dinner roll, ignoring Sam's instant bitching about dibs before grace, or whatever it was he was talking about. "Besides, that only happened once."

"Dean." Cas' voice came out of nowhere, along with the hand that swiftly snatched the small piece of bread from his grasp. It didn't go unnoticed how his available hand gripped at Dean's waist, giving it a slight squeeze before letting it go. "Listen to your brother."

"Since when did you take his side, Cas?"

"Look, can we just sit down and eat? I'm starving. You, just… whatever Dean." Sam muttered as he pulled out his seat, flattening out his palms to straighten out the invisible wrinkles in his pants. "At least wash your hands or something."

"Man up."

And with a shift that left his mind blank in the way that only happened in dreams, they were all seated at the table, hands linked as Cas continued to smile fondly at them. Sam returned the smile, if only with a little more enthusiasm as he looked from Cas to Dean and back again, nearly jumping from his chair like some overgrown kid. Dean on the other hand was more than a little dumbfounded by it all. It felt nice. So nice, in fact, that he didn't bother to nip another piece of bread until Cas was done saying grace.

The moment the _Amen_ was said, Sam flew for the utensils, sinking the knife into the golden brown poultry nearly violently. "Easy there, Sammy. It isn't going anywhere."

Sam laughed with a small shrug as he sliced a healthy piece from the breast, the steam making Dean's mouth water nearly instantly. "Pass me your plate." Dean did as he was told.

They fell into light banters, laughs and Dean's not so funny jokes. Even Cas narrated anecdotes from back in the day; apparently not even the usually stoic angel was exempt to some heavenly mischief of his own. They shouldn't have found the extinction of an entire ancient race over an accidentally yanked feather funny, but that didn't stop the ungraceful guffaws the brothers were choking out through mouthfuls of stupidly delicious food.

As overwhelming as it was, Dean sat back and took a moment to drink it all in as he tipped back some of his beer. He watched with a smile as Cas downright grinned at something Sam was telling him animatedly, hands all over the place in explanation. The angel needed to smile like that more often; all crinkly eyed, blue eyes alight with mirth, the vision of perfection trapped within a human vessel. _Dean__was__now__the__king__of__chick-flick__thoughts,__but__he__couldn__'__t__find__it__in__him__to__give__the__slightest__damn._ Instead, without giving it much thought, he leaned over and took Cas' hand in his, squeezing it tight as he laced their fingers together, Cas' thumb instantly caressing the back of his hand. Cas turned to him, look softening considerably as he gazed at Dean with the same adoration he always reserved strictly for him.

"Geez, get a room or something." Sam said as he deadpanned; there was still amusement behind the barely visible smile though.

Dean made a face at him before leaning over and clumsily ruffling Cas' neatly combed hair into its usual mess. "I like it better this way." He promptly ignored Sam's bitching.

Cas chuckled, a little bit of heat slipping into his eyes as Dean subconsciously licked his lips at the thought. A room would be good, but at that moment all he wanted was to be right there, with his angel and his cockblocking brother. A blatant example of what his paradise would be like… pie included.

When Dean finally woke up, finding himself in a dark motel room with nothing but the faded lights of the flimsy Christmas tree he and Sam had put together out of car fresheners bugging his eyes, he sighed to himself. Three times had they pulled something like that, trying to recreate some Christmas cheer for their usually pathetic and depressing lives; but this time it was different. It wasn't just Dean and Sam sharing a beer and watching football on the cheap twelve inch, static riddled motel television, this time, they had a new addition to their little family.

Dean tried not to disturb the body resting beside him as he caught a glimpse of Sam's comatose body strewn over the floor, making him choke on laughter when he noticed a slice of pizza sticking to his hair. There was going to be a major bitch fit come morning.

Dry lips pressed against the back of his ear, hot breath tickling his neck as a hand began to rub soft circles beneath his shirt, making Dean moan as he stretched out on the bed, legs bumping into the pliant ones behind him. The hunter couldn't help the small smile that formed on his face; there was something about Cas acting possessive that put him in a good mood. Dean turned his head to better look at the angel spooning him, giving him a smug little smirk. "Hey."

"You were dreaming." Castiel said, scrutinizing Dean's features in the way he always did, stern but lovingly. "You were… laughing." There was no smile on his plump lips, no lilt in his words and no light in his eyes, just the ugly colors of their makeshift tree.

Dean sighed, shifted their positions without warning until he was lying on top of his angel, tucked neatly between his legs. He pressed the tip of his nose to Cas' neck, blowing hotly onto the Adam's apple as he watched it bob; and just like that, Cas' body slackened with a pleased little sigh. If he hadn't known better, Dean could have sworn that was jealousy he had seen in Cas' eyes.

"I was at a Victoria's Secret fashion show. You were modeling women's lingerie."

The seriousness in Dean's voice made Cas' eyebrows shoot up incredulously. There was a momentary silence while Castiel debated how to reply to that, confused about how could Dean possibly find that funny enough to laugh through his sleep. "Did I have wings?" Of course, he had seen the advertisement plenty of times to know what he was talking about.

Dean stifled a laugh. "Yeah. Big fluffy white wings—and I mean huge." It was Cas' turn to laugh, a soft low rumble that made Dean smile. His features melted into a content expression, arms around Dean squeezing tightly as he bent down to kiss his cheek. "You're gonna have to show me those things one of these days, man. Curiosity is getting the best of me." With a nod, Castiel agreed.

The angel arched up when Dean rutted their hips together, just once, making color surface against Cas' cheeks as he leaned down to steal a kiss. Hands fisting at Castiel's dark hair, Dean angled him to better slot their mouths together, teeth briefly biting at the bottom lip before slipping in his tongue, teasingly, just enough to dab against Cas' own before pulling away with a grin. Cas huffed in exasperation, his stomach knotting with new feelings of want and need. Dean always brought these alien sensations to the fore and it was unsettling, but he couldn't help being swept away with the heat of them.

They took it slow, in Dean's opinion. He had taught Cas the art of kissing at every level; from discreet pecks to full out tonsil searching. He had taught him the different types of touches; the chaste brushing of fingers to the intense dry humping in the back of the Impala. In fact, he even remembered the time he accidentally pushed Cas to orgasm just by chaffing against each other, something that resulted in Dean not seeing the angel for a full two weeks. The second time around, Dean made sure to hold him close, whispering sweet little nothings into his ear and kissing him senseless as he did so. He remembered the way the angel trembled in his hold, sighed his name adoringly enough to make his chest ache with feelings Dean wanted to desperately pummel to the ground. Cas was his, and he reminded him with every little stolen kiss and awkward glance.

Castiel smiled against Dean's lips, pecking them before whispering a soft "I love you" and running his hands down the hunter's back. Dean buried his face against his neck, swallowing a few times, not trusting his voice at the moment. His throat burned every time the little confession came, making him hold the angel a little bit tighter, almost desperately. It scared Dean, if he was totally honest with himself, but at this point in time, he no longer hesitated.

And every time Dean answered with the same bare honesty. "I love you too, Cas."

And every time Castiel kissed him with a little more vigor.

They both craved a little more of everything. More skin, more hands, more mouth, more nothing between them. But they dealt with what they had. Castiel learning the vast yet limited expanse of human actions and emotions with Dean and Sam as his teachers; with Dean showing him the extra mile along with the pleasures and intimacy of it all. And if he was completely honest with himself, Castiel had never been happier in his nearly eternal existence.

"Seriously, can you two not do this now? It's three in the morning; I don't plan on stepping outside while you go at it." They were startled out of their reverie when Sam suddenly spoke up, bitchface at full force as he violently waved that one pizza slice at them. "I'm not joking." Trudging over to the available bed, he collapsed on it, snoring beginning an instant later.

Dean barked out a laugh that echoed in Castiel's own mouth, the angel chuckling with a blissed-out look on his face while he sank his fingertips a little harder into Dean's waist. This was his family, small and a little messed up, but it was his. It was perfect.

Stealing another kiss from Cas' upturned mouth, Dean smiled in contentment. Monsters and demons be damned, it was Christmas day and he planned on enjoying it with his pain in the ass brother and his angel boyfriend.

"Merry Christmas, Dean." Castiel whispered, almost shyly, eyes glowing with the same intensity that they did in Dean's dream.

That was all he needed to deem the moment perfect. "Merry Christmas, Cas." Leaning slightly, he pressed another small kiss and a nip to those deliriously awesome lips. Dean figured, _hell_, maybe being the king of chick-flick moments wasn't a bad thing after all.


End file.
